Bloodmoon Uprising
by Apologist
Summary: Moogles get tired of being support classes, form Kupo Pride gangs, replace the judges with liberal activist judges, and all hell breaks loose in Ivalice. Ritz x Shara, but it's all in good fun. Chapter 10 available, at long last! And you all thought I
1. Blood Moon Arisin'

The Bloodmoon Uprising

OR-

Moogles Get Tired of Being Support Classes and Whip Out the Whupass

By The Apologist

intro 

And in those days it came to pass that Nutsy, greatest of the clans, began a gentle reign over the imaginary land of Ivalice. Although all those involved in the creation of this world had accepted the fact that they needed to get on with real life, they still liked to escape from time to time on weekends, long school breaks and the like. The judges remained a neutral party, enforcing the completely arbitrary and often-irritating laws of engagement. This did absolutely nothing to bring the rates of violence down, but with the irrepressible Ezel Berbier and almighty Judgemaster Cid essentialy exempting him from all of the laws anyway King Marche was extremely apathetic on the subject. As a result, morale was down something-eight percent, and restlessness was on the rise. Clans became, largely, violent bands of marauders and bandits, waylaying poor innocent monsters and townsfolk in search of anti-law cards (Since the crown had now taken control of both the mightiest judge and the prime source of anti-law cards, these were quite a rare commodity).

Amidst all of this chaos, a terrible new challenge arose to the clans and the crown. Evil emerged from its centuries-long dwelling place in the jagds, found root in the hearts of the most adorable creatures on earth, and set the world alight in its horrible blaze. This whole mess started, peaked and ended in the month of Bloodmoon, and so came to be known as the Bloodmoon Uprising.

/intro 

YEAR 1-

_"There is no fear that we cannot conquer, no enemy that we cannot face down, no foe too... oh holy CRAP what is that?" - Judgemaster Cid_

Chapter 1: Blood Moon Arisin'-

It was a dark and... well, dark night. Filled with darkness. In the dark. The only light showing was the blood-red moon, announcing the month of the lunar year. Kinimo, favorite moogle daughter of the new generation, was humming a popular tune to herself and picking daisies in a big field of flowers. Suddenly, she heard a noise not too far off, in the direction of the little stonework building. _"I wonder what that might be?"_ the stereotypical little girl thought to herself, readjusting her pompom as she went to investigate by herself in the middle of the night without any reason for being in the middle of the field.

Kinimo nearly tripped over a big, steaming pile of awful cliches as she peeked around the circular tower. "Oh my gosh!" Kinimo whispered to herself, surprised. She immediately rushed off to find a judge.

Kinimo soon returned, a judge behind her. She showed him what she had seen, only to find that the situation had escalated. "I can't look!" she exclaimed, "they're gonna kill each other!"

The judge sighed, looking around the corner. He stared, transfixed. "Oh, wow... Ouch. That has to hurt. I've never seen anything so... so..."

Kinimo didn't dare look... "Awful? Disgusting? Terrifying?"

The judge shook his head, "So adorable! Look at 'em go! Wow, the little squeaks they make when they get hit..."

Kinimo just stared up at the judge, more terrified now than ever. It's entirely possible that, in that one moment, she understood in foresight what was going to happen and why. But if she did, she certainly kept it all to herself, the greedy little... cough er, right.

Soon the fight was over. Fur, blood, and bits of pom-pom were strewn about behind the stone building in the middle of Aisenfield. One moogle lay dead while the other, a tough gunner wearing low-rider jeans, muscle shirt, too much jewelry and a 'do-rag wiped the blood from his nose and left eye. "Kupo... stupid fourlegs almost got me.."

Unfortunately for that gunner, use of the words "fourlegs" and "got" were both against the law that day. Galvanized by the only thing he knew, the judge blew his whistle, sprung out of the shadows, and dealt a yellow and red card violently to the gunner. The moogle merely sneered, spit on the cards, and aimed his sawed-off Longbarrel squarely between the judge's eyes. "I know you think that armor makes you ultra-kupo, kupo, but you're about to be deader than a Nu-Mou in Jagd Dorsa if you don't back down."

The judge couldn't stop laughing. "Oh! Say that last part again! Moogles are soooo adorable!"

Judge armor is very strong, but damned if it can hold up to a close-range shot from a sawed-off longbarrel. This judge was to be the first of many to join the Totema in that ethereal nonreality. Kinimo made it out unharmed, although it's widely speculated that this was to be her greatest misfortune of all. Of course, only idiots would speculate that it's better to be dead than alive, but it makes a pretty soundbite, and as many left-wing politicians have proven that's all it really takes to make the news.

"And that's what I saw, King Marche." Kinimo looked up at King Marche, worried about his response. He had seemed a bit, well... distant from the people lately.

"Hmm. Interesting, interesting. Now, I'm afraid I didn't hear a word of that."

Kinimo stared at Marche, stunned. King Marche indicated a sign by the wall. It was a big list of that day's laws, expanded at his leisure. Written on the bottom in blue pen ink, obviously an addition made less than a day ago, was the law "King Marche, highest power in the land, lends a deaf ear to those who do not express their proposals in the form of interpretive dance." Written just under it was the law "Anything you can't say in under a minute probably isn't worth being said."

Kinimo shook her head slowly, dazed by the sheer idiocy of it all. She racked her brain for a few seconds, then turned to King Marche, cleared her throat, and performed the most amazing feat in all of history.

As time went on in Ivalice, and power began to rise, levels ran into the hundreds. As a result, multiple new advanced classes and superclasses had to be devised in order to keep players interested at all. The newest addition to the moogles was a basic class: the Dancer. Able to perform amazing feats with their dances (including all the weird nonsensical magic stuff that a dance could never actually do) these moogles were highly-trained experts at all kinds of dance... including interpretive dance.

Kinimo expressed everything she saw in a dance lasting exactly twenty seconds. King Marche began to applaud... or so she assumed. She soon found out that was clapping to summon Judgemaster Cid, who promptly served her a red card for violating the law that day, which strictly forbig Dance A-abilities. King Marche then ordered another Pina Colada-flavored snocone and took an extra-long nap while Kinimo cooled her heels in Sprohm.

Of course this was all horrible foolishness, and Marche was about to regret it, but he had a damn fine nap and dreamed of many, very hot Viera lasses.

Thus ends chapter 1.


	2. Introduce Chaos

Chapter 2: Introduce Chaos-

Kinimo was crying uncontrollably. The poor girl had never been to prison before. Her cellmate was a large, silent Bangaa missing one eye. He had the look of a Gladiator stripped of its armor, and he was quite old. He seemed to be more bored by her crying than anything.

If she would have looked up, Kinimo might have noticed the disproportionate number of rough-around-the-edges moogles in most of the cells, all of them dressed in a fashion similar to the moogle she had rushed to tell King Marche about. She was even tuning out the obnoxious noise of their constant freestyle rapping, which partially expressed the difficulties of life in the jagds, but more often expressed an uncontrollable urge to violate and murder unwilling moogle females.

After some time, the Bangaa with one eye broke the silence. "What are you in here for?" he asked Kinimo.

Kinimo looked up at him sulkily. "Nothin'... stupid random laws."

The Bangaa nodded sympathetically, "Aye, figured it was somethin' like that for a lass like you to be in here..."

"Well... w, why are you in here?" Kinimo hesitated before asking.

The Bangaa chuckled, "Nothing serious, dear..."

Kinimo breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just four counts of murder, high treason, and use of Techniques on a non-technique day."

Kinimo's ears shot up, and her pom-pom went frizzy as the hair on it straightened. "WHAAAAT?"

The Bangaa sighed, lowering his head. "Go ahead, just judge me like everyone else..."

Kinimo did just that. She rushed to the other end of the cell and stood on the top bunk, to get as far away from the Bangaa as possible.

A human thief walked up to the prison in Sprohm, rattling something in a cup. He had traded in his dashing headwrap for a bright green headband, which pushed his blonde hair up into spikes. His bright blue eyes sparkled with a kind of dazzling mischief, and his loose-fitting robes were blue instead of green, tied at the waist with a scarlet sash. He laughed jovially at the deskrunner before him. "You mean you don't know who I am?"

The deskrunner adjusted his spectacles, scowling at the strange human. "No. Now unless you have someone to release or pardon..."

"Surely you know my name!" said the human, staring directly into the Bangaa's eyes. The deskrunner felt a strange sensation wash over him...

"No, stranger... but please tell me!" the scowl transformed into a friendly grin.

"Glad you asked. My name is Surahci Suan. I need to go back and talk to some prisoners..."

"Well, Suan, I'd love to, but you need to fill out this paperwork..." the deskrunner started to blink a little bit, breaking Surahci's gaze...

Surahci sensed things going afoul and rolled the dice forth from his cup, yelling "Snake Eyes!"

Flinching as though struck, the deskrunner turned beanstalk green with poison and collapsed backward into his seat. Scooping up his dice, Suan ransacked the helpless clerical staffbangaa's prone form for the keys and ran back into the prison...

"Good news, my Kupos!" Surahci yelled, running into the chamber, "You're all going to be free in a moment!"

Apparently Surahci had failed to account for the Bangaa guards still in the prison. They rushed him, spears aloft. With quick reflexes Surahci ducked their blows, wound up behind them, and threw his dice to the ground yelling "Lucky Seven!"

The dice landed, showing four and three. Both guards flew into the opposite wall, hit by a blast of nonelemental damage. Surahci scooped his dice up on the fly and, with a few quick tumbling maneuvers, had freed everyone in Sprohm Prison in less than fifteen minutes. Tumbling out of a low window, he rolled the dice and disappeared.

The moogles rushed from their now-open cells, going for their stock of weapons. One straggler noticed Kinimo in her cell, kicked the door in, and started to advance on her. "Gonna get me some KUPO tonight..." he growled under his breath.

"RUSH!" was the last thing he heard that day. The one-eyed Bangaa's crushing fist threw the moogle back out of the cell and into the opposing wall.

Several beady sets of moogle eyes turned in upon the cell, and about one and a half dozen 9mm pistols cocked in a gaggle of near-unison. Kinimo hid behind her Bangaa protector, whimpering with fear. The Bangaa didn't even flinch. "Go on and leave her alone, you bunch of kupo-brutes, lest you end up like your friend there."

Squeaks of indignation met this challenge. "Hey! He hurt Kujisto, kupo!" "You can't say Kupo, kupo! That's our word, kupo!" "I hope you enjoyed the use of your kneecaps, kupo!"

But strangely, not a shot was fired. There was no judge nearby to sound the engagement, but that didn't mean that A-abilities were unuseable. The Bangaa stared all of the Moogles down, saying "Staredown..." in a gruff and gravelly voice.

It took a moment but, shouting dire threats and accusations, the moogles began to leave. The Bangaa focused his stare on a different one each moment, and the overall group was too stunned to fire. Soon the whole group had run off.

Kinimo was laying on the ground behind the Bangaa, shaking like a leaf on a tree, covering her head with her hands.

"You can get up now, little Moogle," said the Bangaa.

At first she was slow, obviously afraid that something had gone terribly wrong and she was about to be sodomized with a longbarrel, but she opened her eyes to see what had transpired. "H, how did..."

"It's not important. Just a little A-ability I picked up." the Bangaa smiled a little. "Why don't you stick with me? I have a feeling things are just as dangerous outside..."

Kinimo nodded timidly. What choice did she have?

"What's your name, little moogle?"

"K, Kinimo..." she replied slowly.

"My name is Arbalet. Pleased to meet you."

Kinimo stared at the Bangaa before her. "Y, you're... YOU are ARBALET, kupo?"

Arbalet grinned a little bit. "Yes..." he said, "I'm Arbalet... former champion of the Ivalice Royal Guard. We can talk later. Come now. Time for escaping while we have the opportunity."


	3. Fightin' Words

Chapter 3: Fightin' Words

Ritz glared at the little moogle in front of her. "Just who do you think you are, little guy?"

The moogle growled defiantly. "Straight kupo! I'm Kumingo, kupo, your worst nightmare!"

Ritz might've giggled if the all-fire PMS wasn't running through her brain at that moment. There was little in the world cuter (or funnier) than a moogle threat. "What are you going to do alone? Stopshot me and peck me to death? Smile on me? I'm reaaaaaal scared, Kumoppo or whatever your name is."

Shara stepped forward, putting a hand on Ritz's shoulder. "Sweetie, maybe we shouldn't taunt him... it might be an ambush."

Ritz glared over her shoulder at Shara. "First off, I told you to call me Sir whenever we're in public, understand? Second off, I know that. I'm not scared of whatever they're going to throw at us... I'm trying to draw out the enemy! Now, do you want to be on bottom every time for a week again?"

Shara looked at the ground, embarassed. "Sorry, sir..." she said in a very small voice.

"Damn straight you're sorry. Now rub my back while I taunt this castaway from the island of forgotten stuffed animals a second time."

Kumingo was not amused. Not only was this pink-haired freak disrespectin', but she was straight-trippin'. Hatin', even! He decided to fix that real quick. He whipped out his sawed-off longbarrel and pointed it at Ritz. "I'm gonna send ya to sleep with Clan Dip, Kupo!"

An obnoxious, high-pitched whistle sounded. A judge appeared out of nowhere, holding his hand in the air. Ritz grumbled a blue streak under her breath, whipping out the Femme Fatale. "Great... an engagement. Wonder what the laws are today?" Looking over her law card, Ritz grinned. No guns, no stunts, no damage to humans. This was going to be a cakewalk.

"Can I help, sir?" Shara asked, looking nervous, "You know I don't like it when you fight alone..."

Ritz sighed with frustration. "I can handle this, Shara. Why don't you go watch and get my victory kiss ready? And I don't mean on the cheek."

Shara scuffed her foot in the dirt and walked over to the edge of the plateu that they were standing on and started to lick her palm, loosening her tongue up. The engagement was to occur in the Nubswood, on a small cliff. There were few obstacles to get in the way, and not much grass underfoot. It was a particularly barren clearing, and not good for cover at all... not that Ritz cared. With an R4 penalty on guns and an R6 on damaging her, this moogle had nothing.

"Alright. My speed is higher, so I go first." Ritz said, running a surprising distance over to the moogle. She had decided to taunt him. Why not? He had been a fool to engage her without checking the laws. "Featherblow!" Ritz yelled as she whipped her rapier lightly over the moogle's body. He grunted with pain as he took some minor damage.

"Bling-bling!" The moogle yelled, holding up his necklace. What was this? Ritz had never heard of that skill before... The sunlight reflected off of the golden, diamond-studded dollar sign around the Moogle's neck, right into Ritz's eyes. She yelped in surprise as she was blinded.

The judge's whistle sounded as he rushed over to Kumingo, serving him a yellow card. "One more violation and you're out!" said the judge. Kumingo sneered in return, brandishing his longbarrel.

Ritz started to panic in her blindness, but cleared her thoughts. "It's okay... I can do this. Nooooo problem..." Ritz moved back, feeling her way around, and trusted her luck... "Sliprain!"

Shara was licking her palm, nervously watching the fight. She would just have to trust Ritz... but things weren't looking good. Maybe the moogle had a ribbon that they couldn't see? Ritz always rushed into these things. Maybe Ritz had forgotten all the times they had had to send out SOS beacons, but not Shara...

Kumingo easily sidestepped the ill-aimed elemental magic, hefted his longbarrel, and took aim. "Kneecap!" The gun reported twice. Ritz screamed with intense pain as she was shot through the kneecaps, taking severe damage and becoming immobilized. The judge blew his whistle again (highly unnecessary, perhaps, but judges always follow protocols, no matter how stupid or arbitrary) and served Kumingo a red card. Kumingo grinned testily, kicked the red card to the ground, and pulled his hidden 9mm from his pants.

"What are you doing?" the judge asked, "You're coming with me!"

"Not on your life, kupo..." Kumingo invoked an A-ability. "Judge-killer Bullet!" Kumingo raised his 9mm and shot the judge clean through the armor. Then, out of spite, he shot the panicked chocobo through both eyes. "Try and jail me again, kupo? The Man never changes... Well I'm not takin' it anymore, kupo!"

Ritz had wet herself with the pain, crumpled on the ground, but through sheer force of will she forced herself to get up as much as possible. "Wh, White Flame..." she whispered. Her prayer went up and came right back down. Waves of warm, soothing white flame washed over her body, healing her. She was still immobilized, but she was alright enough to sort of stand up.

Kumingo was about to act again when he heard a high-pitched Viera voice yell "Shadowbind!" Kumingo didn't even see what was coming at him before it happened. His shadow was nailed to the ground by a black-fletched arrow. He grunted and strained, trying desperately to move. "Hey! What's going on, kupo?"

A viera swathed in black arrived. She looked somewhat like an assassin, but there was something... darker about her. Perhaps it was the chains wrapping her waist and going around various parts of her body. Perhaps it was the hellish-looking longbow that she carried. Or perhaps it was something just not quite right about her eyes...

"Who the kupo are you?" Kumingo demanded, frightened.

"One of the Pioneers... as I see you are."

A "Pioneer" was the official term for those who experimented with new classes. Pioneers were hard to recognize sometimes, but usually their eccentric appearance and immense power gave them away in time. The only real way to find out was to watch one fight... often Pioneers used A-abilities not known to the general public.

"Why did you jump in on my engagement, kupo? I was about to finish off Pinky over there!" Kumingo was never so angry as when he was held down.

"I'm here to collect the bounty on your head, set by a rival gang... I'm a sucker for gil," the viera chuckled darkly.

Shara, in the meantime, had run onto the field and was worrying and crying all over Ritz. Ritz was verbally abusing Shara for being weak and a worrier. This soon escalated into a bitter argument.

"Why do you always have to put me through this, Ritz? Why?"

"Aw, come off it you sissy. It just hurt a little."

"You could barely move! The judge is... he's... oh God, what if he couldn't have saved you?"

"Re-LAX, wouldja? I'm fine. Now quit blubbering all over me and get me some eyedrops.

"Oh, umm... of course. Right here."

"Mmm... that's better. Now make yourself useful and gather my things. We're leaving."

"But Ritz... he beat you. Dosen't that worry you? What about..."

Ritz slapped Shara across the right cheek. "He did not beat me, dammit! Don't you say that!"

Shara gasped, looking at Ritz as her eyes filled with tears. Ritz winced, just realizing what she had done... "Hey... hey, I'm sorry, babe... I didn't mean to... I didn't... why did you make me do that to you? You know what I'm like this time of the month. If you wouldn't have been acting stupid I wouldn't have done that."

Shara slumped away, crying, as Ritz muttered darkly under her breath. She'd have to make it up to Shara as soon as the immobilize wore off...

"Let me GO, KUPO!" Kumingo was indignant. The viera was tying him up tightly.

"Hey, you!" Ritz yelled to the viera. The dark one nodded backwards, showing that she was listening.

"Yeah... don't you dare go telling people that he beat me. I was about to whip it out and finish him, so don't be stupid."

The viera chuckled. "Hmm... ego problem, eh? I notice you. You're Ritz, aren't you? I could collect quite a bounty on you from lots of people... Those who split with the palace shouldn't demand things of bounty hunters, fool."

And with a mumbled word and an A-ability, the Viera and her quarry vanished.


	4. Lest Ye Be Judged

Chapter 4: Lest Ye Be Judged

Arbalet was carrying Kinimo on his back. They had been walking through the Eluut Sands for hours. Sprohm prison was a few miles from Sprohm itself, although they were trying to avoid cities as much as possible. Eluut was, unfortunately, the safest way. The only thing Arbalet had forgotten to plan for was that Kinimo was not a seasoned clanner or fighter... just a little moogle dancer girl with no training or experience. That meant that the work would fall to him.

"I'm tired..." Kinimo whimpered. The girl had been sucking down water like a camel in a dry spell, and when she wasn't stopping to take in water she was stopping to let it out. Arbalet sighed, muttering something rebellious under his breath. Then he put on the happiest voice he could manage, saying, "Little one, every time we stop we have to be here that much longer. We're almost to the oasis, and then it's only a few more miles until we reach the outskirts of Cyril. I know a place we can hide there... just a little more, okay?"

Kinimo sighed testily, laying back and letting Arbalet carry her limp form. She had tried to walk at first, but she just couldn't keep up, especially in the heat. She kept getting the feeling that Arbalet was annoyed with her, but what could she do? She didn't ask for all this to happen to her...

Arbalet was just glad that the whining had given out an hour ago. Thankfully, she had found it more tiring to whine and fidget than to sit still. He needed the time to think. As happy a face he tried to put on things, he knew how dangerous it was out here... and he wasn't certain that his contact in Cyril still existed. More to the point, if they didn't find somewhere to go before nightfall, things would get nasty. He knew how cold the desert got at night, no matter how hot it was during the day... they couldn't afford to be caught in that cold snap. It would literally be the death of them.

Arbalet's not-so-cheery interdissertation was interuppted quite suddenly as the ground beneath his feet began to move. Groaning, he set Kinimo down, almost dropping her. "Hey! W, what's happening?" Kinimo's whining sense had finally started to kick in again. Great. Just freakin' great.

"Antlions, little one. Stay behind me. I know how to deal with antlions." which was, of course, a lie. The only way Arbalet knew how to deal with antlions was the same way he knew how to deal with everything else... he had never been a guide as a child, just a guard. Just a lousy gladiator. He had wanted to be a bishop when he grew up, which was almost enough to make him laugh or cry these days, depending on how long he thought about it.

Unfortunately for Arbalet's inexperience in the situation, the two travellers were vastly outnumbered. Five antlions, two red, three blue, versus a washed-up guardian and a little dancer moogle. Sure, they were both Pioneers. So what? Dancer and Ronin weren't very impressive classes... and Ronin especially held a degree of shame. The only way to become a Ronin was to become shunned by the palace, and while it wasn't an altogether horrible class, it certainly did not have the variety of the Templar or the punch of a trained Gladiator. In fact, it's greatest weapon was its infamous reputation...

"Staredown," Arbalet invoked his favorite A-ability. He gave the nearest Red Antlion a searing glare, shaking it to the core of it's soul. It left in a hurry. Then it was Kinimo's turn...

"Waiznabus!" Kinimo started to dance beautifully. Arbalet blinked twice, watching... and then his eyes opened wide as all of the antlions, although they were quite far apart, flinched in pain and took impressive damage from the dance. Arbalet was fairly surprised... apparently this little dancer could affect all enemies present.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure it'd be enough. The four antlions rushed him. One of the big reds slashed him with its jaws, and he growled in pain, trying not to cry out. That really hurt, dealing over half of his max HP in damage. The other antlion tried to gut Kinimo, but she ducked under it, trembling softly with fear.

Arbalet shook his head. Where was the damn judge? He couldn't say that he wanted to get caught, but he fancied death even less. Without some kind of help...

And then, in this author's favorite ruin-the-moment way, help arrived in a "completely surprising" fashion to ruin any semblance of suspense. "Deus Ex Machina!" The summon magic spell rang through the sky, and the summon monster Alexander appeared, fired beams of holy light into the enemies, and left all of the gathered Antlions in one big, steaming pile of suck. A viera in summoner's robe stepped onto the battlefield, a Nu-Mou sage, Human thief, Bangaa templar and Moogle mog knight standing as her honor guard. Arbalet ran forward to thank the summoner, but was intercepted by the templar. A brief struggle ensued, and Arbalet was thrown to the ground.

"Hold him there, Anders. I want him alive, but hold him there," the Viera said. Kinimo stared up at her savior-cum-foe with mixed awe and fear. "By order of King Marche," the viera summoner said, "the escaped convicts Arbalet Aasimov and Kinimo Moguta are hereby captured, to be returned to the palace in exchange for one hundred thousand gil and equipment of my choice. I am Lady Artina of the House of Royal Viera, and I proclaim it so!"

The Nu-Mou nodded fittingly at her speech. "Let it be so!"

A judge appeared and served a dark purple card to both Kinimo and Arbalet. They were instantly teleported... Dark purple cards were worse than red. You were not transported to jail... but to the palace dungeon, to await your hearing with the real authority. Capital punishment was entirely possible... but why? Was fleeing prison really worth an execution? Arbalet could only hope not...

"Rise, delinquents," Judgemaster Cid cast a stern eye over Kinimo and Arbalet. They were both kneeling before him, although it was all Kinimo could do to keep from crying hysterically. "The two of you are charged with the murder of three judges and the injury of two sprohm prison guards. What have you to say in your defense"

Kinimo's eyes widened, "M, _murder_, kupo?"

Arbalet growled in his throat. "Look at the corpses, fool. How would we have caused gunshot wounds with our fists?"

Cid narrowed his eyes. "We have ways to humble you, bangaa. How would you like to go to prison for the rest of your life? Oh, wait... you're already in for that, aren't you? Participate, and you might have your sentence released... continue to disrespect me and you may find that a life sentence is, indeed, very short."

Arbalet had been around too long to take a Judge's word at face value... even the judgemaster's. "Well you know it wasn't us. Now either you're going to blame us for it or you're going to question the moogle I knocked out... the one you should have in captivity."

Cid tried not to show anything, but he blushed. The Bangaa was washed up, sure enough, but he was still sharp. He would have to watch it now... King Marche's plan was certainly not going to work. He would need their cooperation. "Listen... I'm sorry about all this. What I really need is your help." Cid sighed.

Kinimo looked at Cid, quite surprised. "B, but why did you...?"

Cid looked down at her, soft and apologetic. "It was the King's hope that you could be coerced into service through fear for your lives... try to frame you and cover his own ass."

Kinimo was visibly beyond anger or belief.

"I know what you're thinking, but King Marche is not a bad person... he's just making the best with what he's got." Cid shrugged, which looked a little strange in his full armor.

Arbalet growled. "IF you want my help, I want a few things in return. First off, I want to be unshunned. I can't help you with no real class abilities. Second, I want my record expunged and my sentence removed. I want to be a free bangaa when it's over. Lastly, I want a good reason to help. I'm not going to run your damn errands, even for my freedom. This has to be worthy."

Cid winced. The Bangaa knew what he was about... "It is worthy cause. Ivalice's safety hangs in the balance... and so do all of our lives."

"What is so bleedingly important that you'd lie to me and capture me over it?" Kinimo had just gotten over her fear and surprise, and was now letting her anger show through. Her run-ins with the palace had been highly disillusioning and, frankly, maddening as of late. She supposed that if Arbalet thought himself safe enough to be making demands she might as well start too.

Cid started, uneasily, into the story... "It's started just recently... listen closely."

To be continued, bitches:P


	5. Killer Queens

Chapter 5: Killer Queen(s)

The holding cell was almost as miserable as the dark little alley that Kumingo had grown up in. He missed his guns, he missed his 'do-rag... but most of all, he missed his freedom. All three had been confiscated by the prison guards, although they had let him keep his bling and his belt, at least. He growled softly in his throat. They wouldn't even let him freestyle in here...

Damn, how Palmyra hated these assignments. The viera sniper wanted a cigarette so badly it stung her to the tips of her paws. She glanced over at her partner... these new Viera she just didn't trust. What was that wacky getup? It's like a red mage stumbled into the wrong colored dye-shop.

Persephony leaned back against the cage, her broad-brimmed red mage hat tipped down over her eyes, although it was the wrong color. She was dressed in the red mage outfit, but it was colored dark violet. Her left ear was cocked, and she liked to give the impression that she was napping. The tip of her Colichemarde was resting on her foot, and she was masterfully playing her part. She was wondering how much longer... footsteps! This must be it.

Suann Surahci ambled down the hallway of the Bervennia Palace Prison, a viera on his chain. Her outfit was lighter violet, almost pink, but otherwise she looked just like the prison guard. It was her Madu that Suan had through his belt, although it wouldn't be there for long. Suan stopped in front of Kumingo's holding cell. Palmyra raised one eyebrow. What was this? The freak show? Today had been so...

Her thoughts stopped abrubtly.

In less than a second, the viera in the light violet had dropped the chains right off of her wrists, drawn the Madu out of Suan's belt, and run Palmyra right through. Palmyra stared down at the rapier blade through her stomach. Her eyes bulged out of her head. Her jaw hung slack in amazement. _'Wow...'_ she thought, _'and I was bored.' _She collapsed to the ground. A group of ill-paid moogle immigrant workers under an invisibility spell waved brightly-colored cardboard stars over her fallen form.

Persephony handed Kumingo his guns and 'do-rag through the bars of the cage while Suan worked on picking the lock. The lighter viera rubbed her wrists impatiently.

"Jeez, that hurt. Couldn't you fake it any lighter! Dammit, Suan!"

"Don't bother him, sis. He's picking the lock. Needs to concentrate."

"Shut up, Seph. You got the easy job."

"Oh you shut up, Cerri. Just because you can't act..."

Suan cuffed Persephony and Ceres both over the head. "Will you two shut it?" he whispered, "You're going to have a hell of a lot more templar than I care to deal with on our ass if you don't shut the hell up!"

They glared at Suan, but didn't dare talk back. He was right, much as they would never admit it.

Kumingo loaded his 9mm, took the safety off, and jammed it into the waistband of his lowriders. He wiped the enormous "Kupo" beltbuckle with his paw, slung his 'do-rag expertly through his pom-pom so that it rested right on his head, and jammed a fresh shell into his sawed-off. "Let them come." He growled adorably and, with pure, unbelievably cute malice in his eyes he plugged the migrant moogle workers with one sweeping burst from his sawed-off.

Suan, Persephony and Ceres blinked in bizarre unison. A calculator in a nearby cell, for lack of anything better to do, ran the statistical probability of... well, any of that happening, really. Everything up from the freestyling moogle being imprisoned by the chain-smoking viera and the Skittles commercial extra to the in-unison blinking. He was, currently, inventing new words for the sheer pseudo-impossibility of it.

Templars surged down the hallway, half a dozen of them. Suan grabbed Kumingo by the collar and bolted, giving a tacit nod to Persephony and Ceres. They blocked the hallway, standing back to back. Each of them looked extremely at ease. Sephy's ear was still tipped nonchalantly, and she pulled her same act, looking down and brining her cap down, tapping her Colichemarde on her right foot slowly. Ceres rested her Madu through the crook of her right arm, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against her sister. The templars stopped and stared, taken completely aback. The calculator stared as well, little numbers in his head zipping upward like Ted Kennedy's BAC on a Saturday morning.

The captain of the guard stepped forward, snarling. His Lohengrin was aching, just aching, to send these two jokers into the next cell with a few things to cry about. "Don't taunt me, you little pansies! Identify yourselves, and put down those weapons!"

Persephony pushed the tip of her hat up with the tip of her rapier, revealing blood-red eyes. Her grin was otherworldly. "Identify? ...oh, how rude of me. I'm Persephony Ashtear... the Queen of Broken Hearts."

Ceres did the same, pushing her hat up. The viera were standing straight now, back to back, brim to brim, slightly facing the now-trembling guards. Only the captain remained straight as steel. "And I am Ceres Ashtear, the Queen of Love Lost."

The captain hefted his Lohengrin and charged, screaming, "You can't scare me! I'll put you where you bel..."

SWISHSWISH SCCRCHHH

Red bangaa blood stained the floor. Two rapiers slid out, blades somehow clean of any trace of blood. Two puncture holes, neat and round, went right through the heartplate of the bangaa's armor. Two grins widened, and two pair of bloodred eyes intensified their stare.

Rather than running, the bangaa's straight-out charged, galvanized into action by their numbers and the smell of blood. What happened next practically defied physics.

In less than two seconds...

Persephony sidestepped a charging bangaa and tripped him with her right foot. Simultaneously she lunged forward, running two templar right through the armor. Her left hand shot a lightning spell behind her. The lightning zapped right into the prone bangaa's spear, electrocuting him. Gray smoke poured out of his ears, and his uncomprehending eyes focused on nothing in particular. Ceres whirled into a Swallowtail, deflecting two spears with a whirling parry and mashing the tip of her rapier into a thousand tiny beesting piercings. Both bangaa fell, their eyes slashed out by rapierpoint. Just as she was finishing her spin, Ceres dropped her Madu and launched herself forward. With insane brute strength she picked the last bangaa up by the collar, threw him against the wall, and held him there, trembling and weaponless, as his javelin slid across the ground.

"D, don't hurt me!" the bangaa cried. Tears were running down his nose. With a disconcerned look of total boredom, Ceres held him by the throat with her left hand. She uttered the A-ability "Redwash" and charged a fire spell in her right hand. With a bored expression in her blood red eyes, she rammed the fire spell into the bangaa's face. His screams fell on uncaring ears as the fire washed into his eyes and down his throat, blinding him, silencing him, and dealing horrifying amounts of damage.

Ceres walked on the backs of the moaning, blinded guards whose eyes she had slashed out, picked her strangely clean Madu up, and calmly walked out the door with Persephony.

The calculator had committed suicide with his own dictionary.


	6. Young Moogles Be Free Tonight

Chapter 6: Young Moogles Be Free Tonight

Cid began his story:

"This all started the first of the month... first day of Bloodmoon. The palace had just arbitrarily rearranged the entire calendar to be less convenient for everyone. Lousy Smarch weather..." Cid muttered something rebellious under his breath before continuing, "There were riots in the jagds... something about a young faction of moogles calling the month changes 'racist' because the new moogle months are called Kupomoon and Pinkmoon. While chanting 'Kupo Power' and 'Hey hey, ho ho, king Marche's caldendar's gotta go' they raided the businesses of humans, nu-mou and bangaa, torching them to the ground and murdering the inhabitants."

Arbalet kept a face like steel, but Kinimo's eyes went wide with the horror. Her thoughts went back to the little moogle renegades in the Sprohm prison, how scared she had been... _How awful to hear them coming and cower in your shop, knowing that if not next, you're soon..._

Cid continued. "Any judges or templar we deployed to the area were shot. It was awful... all we could do was wait for it to calm down. But the worst was about to come..." Kinimo started to shiver, wondering what could be worse than mass riots. "Claiming that the palace just couldn't understand them, many of the moogles released rap albums. They claim to this day that the albums are about freedom, but I swear I don't hear anything but drugs, violence and rape."

Kinimo blinked in confusion. "What? Rap albums? That's worse than riots?"

"Have you _heard _rap?"

"Well..."

"It's worse."

"Oh."

"After that," Cid went on, "the little butchers left the jagds in a mass exodus. They've started to murder or silence anyone who disagrees with them or anybody who is related to or assists those who disagree with them. They've also accused the palace of trying to silence them and any who are related to or assist them."

"What is the king's policy?" Arbalet asked.

"Erm... he says that we need to foster understanding with them."

"You're _kidding _me. Let me guess. Your ambassadors always end up dead or near-dead. This is just insane. Well, at least there aren't many of..."

"Most of the common moogles are becoming this way."

"_What?_"

"Drawn by the catchy beats of rap music and the idea that they should have whatever they want without consequences, the moogle youth is joining this gang in droves. Worse yet, they're forming backbiting little inner factions and starting to murder each other in huge numbers."

"...this is a lot to take in."

"There's more. A number of humans, nu-mou and bangaa are joining the moogle's cause, pointing out that moogles are only support classes. They think it's because of some kind of systemic discrimination! They're blaming the palace!"

"...what about viera?"

"Hmm?"

"You mentioned humans, bangaa and nu-mou, but..."

"Oh God, the viera."

"Yes, what about them?"

"We just got this..."

Cid put a letter into Arbalet's hands. It was marked with a brown viera pawprint and signed with the name _Antigone_ in rapier-point handwriting. Arbalet began to read it and gasped in surprise, dropping the letter as though struck. Kinimo, who was enjoying the feeling of her head spinning like a fun tickle, snapped out of it, "Are you okay, Arbalet?"

"Th, they're..."

"What is it?"

"I should have figured this out."

"Whaaaaaat?"

_Whiny little moogle bi... brat. _"The viera... have all come out of the closet at once. And they've elected the author of this letter, Antigone, as their leader. She's... she's suing on behalf of all of the viera and moogles in Ivalice! She's suing the palace for two hundred billion gil and property rights to the entire country of Ivalice!"

"_WHAT?"_

Kinimo dropped into a faint.


	7. You've Come a Long Way Baby

Chapter 7: You've Come a Long Way Baby

Arbalet stood inside the palace's equipment room, strapping on some spellsteel gauntlets. The palace had capitulated to his demands. He was fully reinstated, pulling together a Gladiator's garb once again. He took a moment to relish as he held a Venus Blade in both hands, taking up a stance he knew years ago. "Yes... nothing causes fear in a bangaa warrior... not even Moogle Gangsters and Viera Lawyers."

Kinimo awoke uneasily, her eyes snapping open. She closed them again quickly, feeling quite sick. The events of the past few days washed over her in a green wave. She hadn't been this miserable since her friends suckered her into going to a Mogtallica concert. She just felt like going home to her stereotypical family and having a nice time in her suburban corner-house with an electronic refrigeration device and a television set, to bask in the mediocre glory of her 50's family. Her father was probably smoking his pipe, sitting in his chair with his slippers on, dispensing homespun wisdom and teaching solid, midwestern values. Her mother was probably baking up a big batch of cookies and raising her obnoxious if well-meaning children. God, how she hated them. On second thought, this whole thing was a pretty good extension of what she had wanted for years.

"...Miss Kinimo?" Kinimo bolted upright, nearly falling out of the cot she was resting in. Her eyes shot open with surprise, staring up at the one whose voice she had heard. It was the mog knight that had served as a guard for the summonner who had brought them in.

"...oh, er..."

"Hello, Miss Kinimo."

"...where am... who..."

"You're in the castle's sick bay, and I am called Kitch."

"...pleased to meet you?"

"It's okay to be a bit dazed. You hit your head pretty hard when you fainted."

"...is that why I have a feeling not entirely unlike a hangover?"

Kitch chuckled a little, leaning upon his sword. "Probably. Just rest... there'll be a white mage through soon enough, I'll see to that. Just lie back."

Kinimo did as she was bidden, although she felt a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. She was having a little trouble beginning to trust the mog that had played a large part in her recapture, although she was confused enough about everything to just let it slide. She was beginning to surprise herself with just how much she could ignore. She dozed as peacefully as possible, although she still felt like crap. No way was she getting any sleep.

The lights in King Marche's chamber were dimmed except for a bright lamp illuminating his desk. There he sat, his brow ruffled with concentration, his hands darting nervously over the objects gathered there. He whispered to himself, moving this and then that, his voice taking on a series of pitches. He was totally and utterly absorbed in his important task.

Judgemaster Cid walked down the hallway toward King Marche's chamber slowly, his own thoughts running through his head. How could he give the king such bad news? The plans had fallen through for the most part. They had gained two new allies, yes, but what good would a washed-up bangaa and a young moogle girl with no combat experience be? At least the bangaa hadn't devised the true reason the kingdom had tried intimidation first... or so Cid thought. Even after all these years, Arbalet was remarkably canny, perhaps even more so. Age had treated that bangaa well... here he was, at King Marche's door. He opened without knocking.

"Oh, yes, make love to me, Marche you stud! I love your crown and your... sceptre. Oh, now I'm all ablush and adorable! Oh!" Marche was imitating Ritz's voice, a small doll of her in one hand, pressed suggestively into a doll of himself in his other hand. He was so totally absorbed into his playing that he didn't hear Cid enter. "Yes, Marche, yes! I want all of you! You're so hot and beautiful and smart and powerful and strong and hot and... and... you're my man! I would never leave you!"

Cid walked up silently behind Marche, staring with a kind of fascination. "Er... majesty?"

Marche scattered the dolls, whirling around to glare at Cid in surprise. The various dolls, each one depicting many of the various inhabitants of Ivalice, went flying about the room. An Ezel Berbier poppet trussed up in S&M leather bounced off of Cid's forehead. "You see nothing, Cid! Nothing!"

"Of course not!" Cid stumbled through his words stutteringly, much like a man who has walked in on another man with a dirty magazine, speaking loudly as though to prove to the world that he is not, in fact, gay.

"Y, yes... my judgemaster. What do you need?"

"I... it's the plan, sire."

"...oh no... the plan?"

"Yes... it's... what the hell were you doing?"

"You saw NOTHING, Cid."

"R, right... but... that... is that puppet ME?"

"Well..."

"What in the blue hell am I WEARING?"

"Cid..."

"...that's... oh my god..."

"It's not as bad as it..."

"Why am I in a cat suit made out of what appears to be grape gelatin?"

"Umm..."

"And why is the big green thing made out of tentacles lying... next... to... my..."

"AHEM! You saw nothing, am I right?"

"...never mind. I..."

"Right?"

"...right. Nothing. I'll just ignore my KY armor there then..."

"Aww, come on..."

"Alright, alright, noone will ever hear of this, but... damn boy, no more TV for you."

"Come on, Cid... what about the plan?"

"Yes, well... things changed. They've joined with the kingdom."

"What? You mean..."

"Yes. I reinstated arbalet, and the girl... she joined us. They heard about everything, including the letter."

"Cid... you failed?"

"No! I did not fail. It was your stupid plan that failed, majesty," Cid spat sarcastically, "You must've forgotten how difficult it is to intimidate that bangaa."

"Well... yes, I..."

"In any event, I made due with what we had. They know just enough to be dangerous. The key will lie in making them dangerous to the enemy and not to us."

"Do you think you can handle it?"

Cid walked toward the door, "Of course I can handle it. Besides," he winked conspiratorially toward Marche, "What are you going to do to me if I can't? Tentacle-rape my action figure?"

Cid closed the door firmly on his way out.


	8. Whiskey in the HiPotion

Chapter 8: Whiskey in the Hi-Potion

Because this plot didn't have enough loose ends yet.

And Thin Lizzie rocks.

Mogrick was going over the Cork and Kerry mountains, when he aspied the devious Captain Ferrell, tax collector for King Marche. Mogrick decided that it was time to take some action. Spying riches beyond his wildest dreams, he leapt from behind some rocks, taking Captain Ferrell by surprise. He first produced his pistol and then produced his rapier. Holding Ferrell at rapierpoint he declared, "Stand over and deliver or Famfrit, he may take ya."

Mog-a ring dum a doo dum a dah

Whack for my clan-e-o

Whack for my clan-e-o

There's whiskey in the Hi-Potion

Mogrick walked away, counting Ferrell's money, and it was a pretty gil. He swept home just long enough to pick up his girlfriend, Mogmolly, and take her away upon his chocobo. She swore to love him forever and never leave him, drunk as he was 'pon the whiskey in the Hi-Potion he had consumed during the fight, she tricked him easy.

Mog-a ring dum a doo dum a dah

Whack for my clan-e-o

Whack for my clan-e-o

There's whiskey in the Hi-Potion

Intoxicated 'pon the whiskey in his Hi-Potion and weary from a long day's running, Mogrick went to Mogmolly's chamber, carrying with him Farrell's money. He didn't know the danger. There, among six or seven other men, was Captain Farrell. His eyes wide with surprise, Mogrick sprung up with his pistols (for Mogmolly had taken his rapier) and shot Captain Farrell with both barrels.

Mog-a ring dum a doo dum a dah

Whack for my clan-e-o

Whack for my clan-e-o

There's whiskey in the Hi-Potion

Some mogs like gadgeteerin' and some mogs like jugglin'

And some mogs like to hear the magic spells a blowin'

Mogrick, he likes sleepin'

Especially in Mogmolly's chamber

But now he's in prison

'Til his clanmates post the bail, yeah

Mog-a ring dum a doo dum a dah

Whack for my clan-e-o

Whack for my clan-e-o

There's whiskey in the Hi-Potion

Now you see? This is what happens when the author stays up until 2 AM listening to 70's music. Everyone who understands the joke, send me an e-mail. I'm doubting I'll get any ;)

See you next chapter with a real update... very soon! Maybe tonight if I'm up to it!


	9. All She Wants to Do is Dance

Chapter 9: All She Wants to Do is Dance

Kinimo awoke quickly, suddenly very aware of her bladder. She stumbled from the cotroom to the nearest easy location, which was located outside the nearby door. After she had taken care of what she had to do she took a little walk around the commons area outside the sickbay. There were ruts gouged into the ground where wheelchair patients had been playing full-contact football earlier that day, as well as several teeth and a big bloody patch that hadn't quite been cleaned up all the way yet. Cleaning solvent was against the law until tomorrow. Kinimo's thoughts drifted to that odd mog knight... Kitch. _What a stupid name. And so damn cocky... with his alluring hard-to-get attitude, gorgeous hair and tight body... my God he's unappealing._

Kitch was also out for a midnight constitutional, although he was joining his best Bangaa buddies out on patrol. He shot the breeze nonchalantly, as is the way with hotshots in leather jackets.

"Hey there, Schenker, Meine," he hailed his comrades.

"Hullo, Kitch," Schenker replied.  
"If it i'nt my fav'rite fuzzhead!" Meine belted with adoration, rubbing Kitch's pom-pom.

Kitch, pulled away instinctively at the touch of his pom-pom. He chuckled, punching Meine in the arm. "Out on the deathwatch again, mate?"

"Oh aye," Meine said.

"Been caught stealin' again?" quoth Kitch with a wink and a high air of jocularity.

"Oh, right ya are there, eh," said Schenker, laughing a little bit as he held his spear up a bit higher.

"How's the life of the templar treatin' you two?"

"Oh, treats me just fine, though I dunno if Schenk likes it..."

"Oh bah! I like it alright... though I do miss bein' a gladiator a bit."

"Yes? I recall you two really tore it up in the pits..."

Meine's eyes sparkled as he started off, "Oh yes... the pits! I remember sendin' an upstart ninja or two the other side of consciousness... How long ago was that? Twenty years? Before you were born, anyhow, mogpup!"

"Mogpup?" Kitch feined indignance, "I'll give you mogpup, you old monitor. You're old enough to be my grandpa!"

"Oh aye, I'm old enough to be your grandpa but I'm spry enough to be yer son, luddo!"

"Only one way to settle this, eh?" Schenker's eyes gleamed as they caught the reflection of past glory. "Live by the pits and die by 'em, am I right? Ya never grow out of destiny..."

"Nah, my days in the pits are over... besides, Meine here swore never to return to 'em when he took the job, eh?"

"Aye," Meine was a bit sad, "as did my rushmate over there. No more brawlin' other gladiators for a livin' for us, nossir. Brawlin' criminals for us'ns!"

Schenker laughed alound for a moment, although it was a bitter laugh, "Aye... brawlin' criminals. If on'y I'd've brawled a criminal since I worked for the palace..."

Kitch grinned, "Oh, you old warriors... you'll get your chance yet. They even sent a pinko-punko like me out on an honor guard for Her Majesty Lady Artina..." Kitch spat after he said the name, "But that's the last time I follow orders to protect that wench. Imagine bringin' in a Bangaa older than you two and a little moogle girl for a hundred large plus equpiment! She wasted a whole lot of magic to do it, too. I coulda done it for a tenth that cost..."

"Huh. Listen to this mogpup... talkin' about bringin' Arbalet in all by his lonesome!"

"Oh, aye. And for a tenth the rate, too!" The two bangaa had a hearty laugh, leaving Kitch rather confused.

"And what's so funny about that? You monitors think I couldn't bring in an oldster and a child?"

"You dunno much 'bout Arbalet, diyae?"

"Who cares what his name is?"

"Arbalet's killed more with his bare claws in a single afternoon than you could slay in a year's hard war, m'boy. He's not a warrior, he's a legend."

"Then why've I never heard of him?"

"'Cos yore just a mogpup, that's why, mogpup!" Meine laughed as Kitch swung out to punch Schenker in the shoulder and missed, hitting the wall. Kitch looked over the wall as his hand hit and swore loudly. At first Meine thought Kitch was lamenting the hand damage, but then Kitch threw himself down.

"GET DOWN!"

Meine threw himself to the ground in time to have nothing but a scorched back, but Schenker wasn't so lucky. Three Fire Shots found him in the face, throwing him backward off the wall. He barely had time to grunt in pain before he landed on his own spear, thirty feet on the ground below.

"We're under fire, boys! We've got to alert the palace!"

"You go, Kitch! I'll cover your ass!"

"Kupospeed, Meine! Give 'em hell!"

Kitch hauled himself at high speed toward the stairs down from the battlements, having no time to wonder about Schekner as he got himself down from the wall.

Kitch ran across the grounds and smack into Kinimo. She swore as the two of them collided, falling backward. As her vision cleared up she saw a very mad Kitch with scorchmarks on his pom-pom. "You okay, Kitch?"

"Fine. Gotta go!"

"Wait! Where are you...?"

But Kitch was gone already, taking off like she had never seen a moogle hurry. Kinimo pulled herself up and together. This was it... those explosive sounds, and Kitch in a hurry... the kupo nuts had hit the fan. Looking between her rough, difficult cot in the sick bay and the single bangaa upon the wall, hurling javelins down and dodging firey spurts of gunfire... she made her decision. Steeling her will, she pulled the pastel green ribbon out of her hair and tied it around her forehead like a bandanna. Leaving the old Kinimo, eldest of six good siblings, behind her, she rushed off toward the wall.

Kitch ran into the barracks, too out of breath to even sound the alarm. The human fighter on duty, however, was quite ready for something interesting to happen. Slinging his blade upon his shoulder he sounded the alarm, rousing a whole barracks of fighting bangaas and humans of every fighting stripe, from white mage medics to black mage artillery to hunter snipers. The men-at-arms and bangaas of war rushed from the barracks, leaving a very tired Kitch in their wake. Short moogle legs hardly make for good runners. Kitch caught his breath, hoping he had been in time to rouse enough... and that Meine wasn't already joing Schenker at Adrammelech's great banquet in the sky.

Meine lay with his back to the battlements, panting hard. He didn't have much left in him, and he was sure he heard the whir of grappling hooks...

"WAIZNABUS!"

Several adorable moogle grunts of pain followed by unmistakable falling, crashing and swearing noises followed this strange outburst. Kinimo ended her dance in a vicious fighting pose, glaring down at the moogles below her. Moving with the graceful steps of the Dance of Death she sidestepped several fire shots and other various bullets. Looking up, Meine was quite surprised to see a little moogle girl dancing atop the battlements, dodging gunfire with her eyes closed.

"...wow... did Kitch send for you?"

"In a way... no time now, old bangaa. Rest, but I'll still need you."

In her distraction, Kinimo took a bullet to the ear. She growled in pain, but forced herself to bear it. This was only a deadlier version of all of the school fights she had won against these same gangs of killer moogles... but she had been the old Kinimo then. Standing up to a judgemaster and some Antlions had taught her a few things...

"Nameless!"

Kinimo twirled slowly, increasing her speed, dodging bullets even with her eyes closed. Those mogbastards thought their guns were tough? Let's see them handle a pissed off woman. With slow, gradual increase Kinimo was eventually whirling like a dervish, doding and ducking and whirling and spinning. As she danced, the moogles below began to undergo funny changes... some turned into frogs. Some suddenly began to stumble around, blinded. A few that were freestyle rapping to boost the morale of their allies stopped, moving their mouths in silence. A moogle that had reached the top of his grappling hook and way about to introduce Kinimo's whirling kneecaps to a dose of vitamin lead was suddenly seized with poison. As red hot pain flooded through his veins he fell over, releasing his shotgun shell into the line of climbers next to him and falling down, knocking down all of the climbers beneath him. The top moogle on the third line stopped cold in his climbing, unable to move a muscle, falling backward into all that climbed behind him. A good smattering of moogles throughout became so confused by the dance that they turned around and emptied their clips into their allies, causing a huge ruckus.

The moogle raiding party was fairly small, maybe a few dozen. The three climbing lines had failed, foiled by a single wounded bangaa and a young moogle woman, barely old enough to be one. When the castle's battallion swept to the top of the battlements and sent waves of arrows and Firaga spells into the gathering, the moogles lost their collective nerve and scattered.

Kinimo collapsed backward into unsciousness, and into Meine's waiting arms. As the castle's guards raised a mighty cheer, Meine took Kinimo down to the sick bay where Kitch was waiting.

"Is she hurt bad, Meine?"

"Ach, she'll be fine, but..."

"I know, Meine."

Meine sighed, blinking back a few tears. Someone had managed to drag Schenker back to the sick bay, but there was no more point. He was far past the help of a phoenix down now. "Ach, me ol' rushmate... I 'ope there's a pit for ye where ye've gone. Ye can do nothin' more than what ye loved yer whole life..."

"Easy there, Meine..." Kitch tried to comfort his friend, but what were the words? Kitch hurt inside too, although he had a bit more success at not showing it.

"So, er..." a white mage entered the room uneasily, "erm... are you all hurt?"

Kitch rose slowly, "No... I was taking a breather. Meine here took a Fire Shot..."

"Bah, a graze!"

"None of that, now. You rest. Keep an eye on Kinimo."

"Oh?" the white mage began to ask, "Is that the foolish one's name?"

"Foolish one?" Kitch sounded curious.

"Yes... she shouldn't even be out of bed yet, and there she was atop the wall..."

Kitch shook his head slowly, pretending not to see Meine crying, "Yes, I suppose she's got to have something foolish in her to have ended up in her position. Still... brave girl, eh?"

"Only just recently, or so I've heard," the white mage seemed unimpressed, fussing over a potion she was forcing down Kinimo's throat in her sleep, "She was timid as a Nu-Mou at a Viera party earlier today..."

"Yes, well," Kitch forced a smile, patting Meine on the back as he left, "Sometimes courage rises in unlikely places when the time's right..."


	10. Farewell to Arms

Chapter 10: Farewell to Arms

Antigone smiled. Her smart, rose colored three-piece business suit was made for a smart, dark cherrywood desk. It was made for a smart, sharp-pointed pen filled with red ink, matched almost exactly to the ceremonial silver rapier that took the wall behind her desk. It was made for clever backstabs and quick thinking, long hours and midnight oil, and a wick that burns on three sides.

It was not made, however, for the honest. Those who would admit their status as a combatant wouldn't dare wear such a beautiful suit. It was armor for a new kind of knight; a modern knight, adapted to a new world. Antigone knew that the days of the noblemen were numbered. Those of brutish honesty, of no talent or cunning, of the body and not of the mind, had no place in this new world. Antigone could best any of them. The great, if primitive, Ezel Berbier, knew before anyone else: it wasn't your strength that mattered, but the strength of the law and the power to manipulate that law. Ezel had triumphed because he was cleverer than those around him. Well, Antigone had become cleverer than Ezel.

The palace and its foolish king Marche thought that they were immune to the effects of the law. Antigone knew that none were above the law; not even the kings that made the law. There were those, however, who were capable of manipulating the law. Nothing so childish and brutish as law cards and anti-law cards. Cudgels were for barbarians. Antigone did not use the law like a cudgel, but instead as a clever fencer uses a rapier. Where a cudgel bludgeons and bludgeons and bludgeons, with all of the skill of a monkey having a seizure with a wrench clutched desperately in hand, a rapier bides its time, seeks the most appealing target and strikes at weak points. Where plate armor and shields may stop a cudgel, a rapier pierces plate and evades shield. And where a tricky combatant can dodge a cudgel, the skill required to wield a rapier assures that targets struck stay dead.

Antigone had mulled in these thoughts for her whole life, some say since birth. Her whole existence had been a song to the strength of law, and the subtle manipulations thereof. She was not well-known. She did not crave fame, but influence. However, within the right circles, she was renowned out of fear as the most vicious of vipers. The chubby little Nu Mou in front of her, however, did not know of her in any way.

The Nu Mou's name was Chester. He was a fanciful little lad who wanted to grow up to be a famous lawer someday. However, he was intent on running a straight practice. He wanted to enter law to defend the weak and deal justice. He had been hired as an intern due to his amazing standardized test scores and on the basis of a well-written essay he had published in a magazine about refining the system of judgement. If there was any kind of bright bastard that Antigone hated, it was this kind of gentle crusader. The kind that would rather reform than destroy, and who would sooner cede half of his argument just to ruin the intent of yours. She wasn't fooled. In the old world of sword and sorcery this lad would be bait for the moat, but in this new world it didn't matter if he was chubby, unathletic and honestly, joyfully lazy in his free time. He was a warrior to put famous kings to shame, and he was startlingly bright. She feared him more than any other.

Chester locked eyes with Antigone and puffed himself to his full height, saying, "Miss Antigone, I don't wish to be argumentative as I've just had my first coffee of the day and the stardust is still in my eyes, but I do believe you've quite overstepped your bounds. I shall be doing everything in my power to bring your reprehensible tactics to light. I've already contacted Malifice and Heppner about your letter and your latest clients, and I hope you realize..."

Antigone had waited long enough to spring her trap, "Oh, dear Chester... I don't understand how you could be so cruel..." Didn't the fat little whelp know the rules in this place? He spoke too plainly. "All I want is peace for the oppressed moogles and, of course, for my own discriminated-against kind. Surely you can't oppose such a lofty goal?"

Chester's eyes narrowed, "I know of your goals. I've nothing against helping the moogles, but I don't think we need to hold up the worst of them as an example of all of them. And I won't pretend that relations with the viera have always been great, but with access to such amazing classes as assassin, summoner and red mage I don't see how you could argue that viera have fewer options..."

"Oh, dear Chester, you wound!" Antigone sniffled before continuing, "Having never been a viera yourself, you couldn't possibly understand how difficult it is for us. What if a little viera wants to be a templar? What if she wants to grow up to be a ninja?"

"Well, I daresay that if a little viera wanted to grow up to be a ninja she'd be better off pursuing the ways of the assassin... it's a much more useful path in the first place." Chester didn't even see it coming.

"Oh! I see what you're saying. You're one of -those- type, aren't you? You think that viera are only good for magic, don't you? Think a viera's place is with her spellbooks, hmm?"

Chester backed up, holding his hands up, "Now, I didn't... I never... I've always been... one of my best friends is a sniper..."

Antigone, a crocodile tear running down her cheek, gave a broken sob, "Why don't you just stop bothering me? I can't concentrate in this hostile work environment!" If she could've only afforded to grin... she so loved to smile with her teeth around someone's throat. But this was the price a knight of the new world payed for her power. Her real emotions could never play into it.

Chester was absolutely astounded to find his internship revoked two days later on charges of sexual harrassment. When his letters finally reached Malifice and Heppner, it was easily explained to them that Chester was a hater of viera progress, and so of course it would be expected that he would oppose any kind of project that put a viera in a prime position.

It was a soft summer evening. Antigone propped her feet up on her desk, sipping a glass of blood red wine, as crimson rays played on the blade of the silver rapier on the wall. She breathed in deeply, knowing that somewhere Chester was crying himself to sleep that night.


End file.
